


Fever all through the night

by whitchry9



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Emergency Room AU, First Meeting, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical, Meeting, hospital au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve just wants to sit quietly until he's seen by a doctor, get some medication, and go home. Except the man with the bleeding arm, who's thrown himself into the chair next to him, seems to have a slightly different idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever all through the night

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize so much for the title, but it was just sitting here for like two weeks while I struggled over it.  
> It's from the song 'Fever'. 
> 
> Important notes- an au that takes place in the present, but where Steve is still tiny. Tony is not Iron Man, and has not been kidnapped/arc reactor thing, nor is he super rich/famous.

A man threw himself into the chair next to Steve, and he did his best not to snap at him. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with a drunk who walked into a pole or didn't realize he was cutting his arm instead of his steak. He just wanted to be seen by a doctor, get some drugs, and go home to sleep for about a week.

He coughed to make a point, but it sort of turned into a real cough, and he regretted that. The triage nurse had given him a mask to wear, so he wouldn't infect the entire ER or something, and it was only making it more difficult to breathe.

“You okay?” the man asked, and Steve looked over to see him, because he didn't sound drunk.

“Yeah,” he croaked, taking in the man's appearance. He certainly didn't look drunk. Maybe he was just the sort of person who liked to throw himself into chairs. And glancing around the room, Steve realized it was the only chair left in the packed waiting room. Maybe he'd jumped to conclusions.

The man did actually look concerned, and Steve had to concede if he looked half as terrible as he felt, it was probably justified. His hair was dark and he had a couple days worth of stubble on his face, artfully clipped into what was probably a goatee. Steve really didn't know. His right arm was covered with a blood stained cloth, and whatever wound was underneath appeared to be still bleeding.

“Really? Because you sound like you're dying, and I would know. Tony Stark,” he added, holding out his left hand for Steve to shake. It was awkward, but he managed.

“Steve Rogers,” he replied. “And yeah. I just need some drugs.”

“Probably be a long wait,” the man, Tony, noted, glancing around the room.

Looking up. Steve had to agree. There were a lot of people waiting to be seen, many of them probably worse off than him. And ambulances came in all the time, carrying victims of car accidents or heart attack patients. He just had a bad cold. He could wait.

Steve nodded to appease the man.

“I cut my arm,” Tony announced. “Normally I'd stitch it up myself, but it's my right arm. I'm right handed. It just wouldn't work. So I figured I'd let the professionals take care of it for once. Kind of a mistake. By the time I get seen it might have healed already.”

Steve smiled. The man was trying his best to engage Steve in a conversation, and he was entertaining, but Steve just wanted to sleep.

“How did you cut it?” Steve asked, hoping the story would be rather long, or at least long enough for him to compose himself.

“Oh, I'm an engineer, and I was working. The welding I was working on slipped, mostly because of Butterfingers. He totally dropped it.”

Steve had no clue what the man was talking about, but he nodded, and ignored the way the room tilted slightly.

“What about you. What do you do?”

“Uh, I'm an artist,” Steve muttered, feeling rather inadequate after hearing the other man was an engineer. His mother would have liked that, if he'd grown up to be an engineer. Of course, she never seemed to be anything but proud of his art skills, so maybe she'd be just as proud of him no matter what.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked you what sort of art. Are you sure you're okay?”

He nodded again. “Just tired. Um, drawings mostly. Sometimes paintings. I'm not really into the digital art. Never got the hang of it.”

Tony nodded. “That's cool. I sort of do digital art? Not really, because it's all like blueprints and designs, but sometimes I think they're as great as some of the stuff that's hanging in museums these days.”

“Functionally beautiful,” Steve said.

Tony beamed. “Yeah, exactly. Like, maybe I'm just being ridiculous, but I can look at those blueprints and see what will be made and how it will work and it's just beautiful, you know?”

Steve smiled. He did know.

He coughed again, the ache in his chest pulling a bit tighter. How long had he been waiting now? He couldn't remember.

Maybe he would just take a nap. The chair wasn't that comfortable, but he'd slept in worse places. He closed his eyes. He'd miss talking to Tony, but the man had to understand.

“Steve? Steve!”

And Steve wanted to thank Tony for keeping him company, he really did, but he was finally drifting off to sleep and it was too hard.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yo sleeping beauty.”

Steve blinked. His ceiling wasn't that colour. He didn't remember falling asleep here, wherever here was.

“Over here.”

Steve turned his head, yep he was lying down, okay, that was new. Last he remembered he was in a chair...

Oh. Right. Well, passing out in the ER waiting room was probably a good way to jump to the front of the line.

Steve finally located the source of the voice.

Tony was in the bed next to him, having his arm stitched up. He waved with the other hand.

“Got to admit, that was a good tactic,” he commented. “Certainly got you seen sooner.”

Steve blushed. “Not my intention,” he muttered, noticing for the first time the oxygen tubing on his face. He reached up to touch it, and the nurse who was assisting the doctor with Tony's stitches spoke to him.

“Sir, don't touch that please. You passed out because you weren't getting enough oxygen into your blood. The oxygen is helping you.”

Steve set his hand back down on the bed. Huh.

“I caught you before you could fall to the floor,” Tony added. “I'm practically a hero.”

Steve blushed. “I'm sorry.”

Tony grinned. “Don't be. It's not everyday I get to be a hero. Or have guys literally falling for me.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve blushed even harder, but he could blame that on the fever.

“Oh, you totally have pneumonia by the way,” Tony added, disregarding the fact that Steve was probably the colour of a tomato. “Not a cold or whatever you thought it was. You know you're kind of an idiot?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Says the man who would have stitched up his own arm.”

The doctor looked up from his stitches as Steve said that and stared at Tony.

Tony smiled innocently.

The doctor finished up on Tony's arm, and the nurse moved to bandage it. The doctor snapped his gloves off and rolled his chair next to Steve's bed.

“Your friend is right,” he said, and Steve didn't bother to correct him. “You have bacterial pneumonia, most likely. We've got you on antibiotics and fluids now, since you were dehydrated, and we've managed to get your fever down. The most worrying was the low oxygen saturation, but you've improved on the oxygen. We're going to admit you for a few days until your chest x-ray clears up, but you should be fine.”

The bandage on Tony's arm complete, he hopped out of the bed, accepting the discharge information the nurse handed him.

Instead of tucking it in his pocket like he should have, he tore a corner off of it and scribbled something down. He handed the scrap bit of paper to Steve, and he could see that it was a phone number.

“When you're feeling better, call me. I'd like to see some of your art.”

Steve blushed again, and he really couldn't blame it on the fever this time, since apparently they'd fixed that.

 

“I'll do that,” he replied. And he meant it.


End file.
